Page 6 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

Daemonikai was supposed to be dead. The finale of months of meticulous plotting. That was the plan. Tonight was meant to be his night of victory.

How had he survived? How had he escaped the clutches of feral madness?

"My Lord," a hesitant voice intruded upon his torment.

"Out, Razarr," Zaiper growled, his head still lowered.

The door opened and closed with a soft click, leaving him alone with his despair.

He stared blankly ahead, his mind a maelstrom of confusion and anger. Nothing made sense anymore. Absolutely nothing. He should have struck sooner. Should have eliminated Daemonikai days ago.

Everything had been for nothing.For nothing!

Tears welled in his eyes, hot and bitter.

A strangled sob escaped his throat, the sound echoing in the empty chamber as he began to weep.

Three days later, Emeriel and a group of fellow garden slaves were transported to a new land to work. The uncultivated land was filled with a canvas of native grasses, stubborn shrubs, fertile dirt, unruly weeds, vibrant wildflowers, and sporadic trees.

The slave master's command was clear: they were to clear this wilderness and transform it into a magnificent garden.

Some were tasked with the labor of felling trees and clearing away rocks and stones, while the others were assigned other less complex duties.

Emeriel crouched low, diligently uprooting weeds. His thoughts drifted back to the events of the past few days.

He had responded to Lord Vladya's summons, as commanded, only to be informed that the grand lord had left for court. And was instructed to await another summons whenever Lord Vladya was available. Three days had passed, and still, no word had come.

Whispers through the grapevine said the grand lords were preoccupied with matters of the court, particularly in light of King Daemonikai's return. Today, an emergency meeting had been convened in the Grand High Court.

My beast.

But he would have to adjust, would he not? To think of him asKing Daemonikainow, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Calling him "my beast" aloud would be a grave mistake.

"Have you seen their grand king yet?" Erin asked Ham, another slave working beside her. Their voices were hushed, but Emeriel's ears perked up at the mention of the king.

"No," Ham shook her head, her hand deftly unearthing a stubborn weed. "But I am curious to see him. The rumors I've heard about him since I was a youngling kept me far away from his beast form when he was feral. Urekai have a wealth of legends, and for thousands of years, they've been regarded as one of the strongest species. This grand king was nearly in every tale."

"They say his bondmate tamed him," Erin's voice tinged with awe. "According to one legend, he was a cold and aloof young grand king before he found his mate. A ruthless warrior who killed without hesitation or remorse. Always eager for battle and the spoils of war. Other kingdoms trembled at his name. But the legend claims he mellowed due to his family. He became less bloodthirsty, more focused on ruling his people with wisdom and compassion."

Ham paused, her expression thoughtful. "I wonder how it must feel to lose your entire family like that," she mused, her hand still in the soil. "To have them by your side for three point five millennia, and then, in the blink of an eye, they are gone. And after enduring five centuries of madness, you must now face the world without them. I can't even begin to imagine such a loss."

Erin released a heavy sigh as she gathered the uprooted weeds into a pile and stood up. "He's relocated the royal residence. He probably couldn't bear the memories of his family there. Which doesn't bode well for us humans. He will undoubtedly take his grief and anger out on us. What if he becomes worse than Lord Zaiper?"

"Then we're as good as dead," Ham's lips twisted into a worried frown as she mimicked Erin's actions, gathering her own pile of weeds.

Emeriel's hands froze mid-motion, her heart sinking at their words.

What if they were right? What if the grand king turned out to be worse than Lord Zaiper?

He refused to believe it, but he knew the destructive power of grief and pain. They could twist the purest heart into something dark and monstrous.

It's wiser to keep his distance, right? Emeriel longed to see him, but the grand king probably didn't remember. Though it pained him like a burning blade, the truth must be faced. The grand king does not remember us, therefore it's best to avoid him.

And you know you yearn to catch a glimpse of him. You crave it.

Emeriel ruthlessly silenced his inner voice, returning to his task.

As the sun began its descent, Emeriel headed back to the fortress, the day's labor drawing to a close.

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